Fallen
by reveur-de-minuit
Summary: A marriage law binds two unwilling people together. They were polar opposites. One night, the other day. One fire, the other ice. Yet neither could deny that opposites do indeed attract. DarkDracoxHermione Granger
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was a cold, dull morning that brought a chill that seemed to relentlessly cling to one's body. There were no birds chirping their merry morning songs, there wasn't any sunshine streaming in through her windows even though it was the middle of July, and there was no sense of life or vitality that a typical summers day normally brought effortlessly.

Hermione Granger stared at the smooth white ceiling above her bed, counting the hairline cracks that were barely undetectable amidst the creamy facade. She sighed heavily before glancing outside at the dismal weather. She thought it most appropriate given her current state. She felt a pang of irrational guilt at the thought that her unhappiness was even preventing the sun from shining. She sighed once more before robotically getting up and going to her small kitchen. Her house was quaint and nestled in Godric's Hollow. She thought the charming abode was good enough for her taste, seeing as she had always preferred to live simply. She didn't need very much, and was quite content with what she had. Her dull eyes glanced around her sitting area before she put on the kettle to make a quick pot of tea.

It was like this every day.

She'd wake up to the silence and gloomy weather, then she'd put on the kettle before taking a shower. After this, she would have her tea while reading the Daily Prophet, then she'd head out to work.

Every. Damn. Day.

She didn't mind the routine, in fact, she actually liked it somewhat. After years of hunting down dark witches and wizards, it was nice to recede back into the shadows once more. While she knew Ron was soaking up the most attention for being one-third of the Golden Trio, she and Harry had decided it would be best to stay low. Ron, however, used his war hero status as a ticket to become the new Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. Hermione didn't know how he could live with himself knowing that the only reason he was as famous as he was, was because of murdering other individuals, but she decided not to dwell on it.

She couldn't, seeing as they were 'engaged' anyway. The engagement initially bothered Hermione. She didn't want it, but felt obliged to say yes to keep the peace. She thought back to that night, a sliver of remorse ingrained in her system.

_It was just after eight, and The Witching Hour, the restaurant they frequented, was packed. It was a small, upscale place located in muggle London, just off the Thames. It was a particularly beautiful evening; the sky rippled with colour, while the sun's rays reflected like diamonds off of the waves of the river. They were talking as they always were, all eager to rid themselves of the day's stress. Harry and Ron were joking loudly, as always, while Ginny and Fleur attempted conversation. Hermione looked towards Luna, who was eagerly pointing to various unseen animals to her fiancee, Rolf. Neville was animatedly chatting with his girlfriend, Hannah Abbot. Hermione had been surprised at the pairing since neither of the two talked during their days at Hogwarts, but was pleased for her friend nonetheless. Bill and her had attempted to talk over the loud table, but it was a very short conversation. Ron draped an arm over her shoulder possessively, as though trying to ward off his married older brother. Hermione rolled her eyes, her frustration building. _

_After graduation, Ron had run off to join the Chudley Canons, and as a result, neither she nor Harry saw him often. They continued to date, even though she saw him a few times a year. She felt comfortable dating him, but if she had to admit it to herself, she knew there was something missing. She felt chemistry whenever they were together, but the moment he left, she found herself wondering why she liked the redhead at all. She loved him dearly, but not in the same way he loved her. He was in love with her. She just loved him. It was similar, but not the same thing. _

_She had felt trapped for a while now. She didn't know a way out of her situation. If they broke up, the friendship would be lost. Harry and her friends would be put into awkward positions to try to please both of them. Ron, due to his temper, would probably end up making them choose between being friends with himself or her. She didn't want to tear everything apart. She couldn't. _

_So she stayed with him. _

_He gripped her hand fiercely, his palm hot and slightly sweaty. She felt dread race through her system. She didn't understand the source of the feeling, so she ignored it. He maintained his grip all throughout their meal, even though Hermione was struggling to eat with her left hand. It was when the plates were cleared that she felt that pang of dread again. The sunset had allowed her the darkness she needed to disguise the slight curl of her lip in disgust. She took a sip of champagne, hoping it would ease her suddenly nervous stomach. Ron cleared his throat, his palm noticeably clammy. She fought back the urge to take her hand back, knowing it would offend the volatile redhead. _

_"Hermione?" Ron asked, his voice wavering slightly with nerves. She glanced at him, her heart plummeting. He looked nervous and filled with hope. She felt adrenaline course through her. She knew that look. She had seen it when Rolf proposed to Luna, and when Harry proposed to Ginny. _

_No. No. No. No. NO._

_This wasn't happening. _

_It couldn't be. _

_Nausea flipped in her stomach, her breathing increased by tenfold. She didn't know whether she wanted to scream, cry, or vomit. So she stayed perfectly still, cleared her throat, and responded._

_"Yes, Ron?" Her body felt hot, and a light sheen of sweat began to form on her upper lip. Her heart and stomach plummeted as she watched him clumsily rise from his chair, only to fall onto one knee beside her. _

_Stars danced in her vision, telling her to release the breath she hadn't known she was holding. Tears formed in her eyes, but not for the reason he suspected. _

_"You, Hermione Granger, are the love of my life. We faced the greatest evils together, proving that love conquers all. I knew from the first time we kissed that I would never again find someone like you. Hermione, you're it for me. You're the first and only woman I've ever loved. And it would be an honor if you spent the rest of your life by my side." Ron declared, his voice steadily growing with confidence. A quiet hush fell upon the restaurant as all eyes watched with unabashed curiosity. _

_This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. She didn't want this. She knew that this was inevitable, they'd been dating for only a year, and they were so young. Ron didn't know what he wanted. She couldn't go through with this. She froze, knowing that everyone waited with baited breath for the next few words to leave his mouth. She watched in silent horror as he fumbled with a pocket on the inside of his blazer. He pulled out a small, square, midnight blue velvet box. He opened it slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear, and hope. She couldn't hurt him. Not when he was looking at her like that. But she couldn't sacrifice her own happiness. _

_"Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?" he asked. _

_The room was silent. Not even the sound of silverware on a plate could be heard around her. All of her senses went numb. She felt her heart shatter within her chest as she fought to regulate her breathing. There was no point in hyperventilating. She felt a part of herself die at his declaration. All she could feel was the crushing weight of despair. This was all so unfair! They hadn't discussed their future or marriage. She thought he enjoyed being young and in just a relationship. She didn't know he wanted to get tied down so soon. _

_That was when it hit her. All the air in her body escaped her in a whoosh. She looked at the hopeful man before her, and really looked at him, as though seeing him for the first time. His eyes were cerulean blue and crinkled slightly at the corners. His nose was average, as was his mouth. Freckles were splashed across his fair skin. Messy orange-brown hair was slightly tamed as it hung to his ears. He was built like a keeper, and his height was an ideal six feet even. But even as she looked at the face she had known for the better part of the last eight years, she could only think of one thing._

_She didn't even know Ronald Billius Weasley._

_She didn't know what he aspired to do with his life. She didn't know the things that he was passionate about. She didn't know what kept him up at night when he found sleep to be elusive. She didn't know what he wanted to do before his life came to an end. _

_She. Didn't. Know. _

_The silence was becoming tense as it stretched on. _

_She couldn't do this. Especially not now. _

_She opened her mouth, her answer shouting itself within her head over and over again._

_No. "Yes."_

_Hermione sat in frozen horror as the word slipped through her lips. That wasn't what she wanted to say. That wasn't what she meant to say. But she had said it. There was no going back now. She was condemned to a life full of emptiness._

_She stared at the ring on her finger. She gazed at the foreign object with a ferocity she hoped would cause it to disappear. It was a white-gold band with a collection of diamonds that encircled a huge ruby. She supposed she should have known it would have some sort of Gryffindor colour tied in, but the more stared at it, the more wrong it felt. It was beautiful, ostentatious, and so _not_ her._

Now that the engagement had dragged on for two years, she didn't really care anymore.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

She just didn't care.

She stopped caring about everything after the war. She went off to become an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, and she'd quickly climbed the ranks to be one of the top in the Department, but she didn't really care all that much. She still saw her friends, but it had been so long since she actually laughed at one of their jokes, or smiled genuinely at her friends. It had been years since Ron had been able to make her giddy with girlish glee. She felt nothing but revulsion when he kissed her now. None of them noticed, but she guessed that was the point.

It was a funny thing, loneliness. You could spend your whole life lost, wishing someone could notice you, only to hate it when you were found. Or you could be amidst a crowd of thousands of people only to feel more isolated and alone than ever before.

While drying her limp, yet bushy hair, the shrill sound of the kettle broke through her thoughts. She turned off the stove and put in the same tea she drank every morning, Twining's English Breakfast Tea. It wasn't exciting, but it was good, which was all Hermione needed.

The sound of the floo caught her attention. She looked towards her fireplace only to find it empty. Puzzled, she grabbed her wand, gripping onto the wood fiercely. She slowly walked towards the other fireplace, pausing when she heard footsteps muffled by the carpeting. She sucked in a breath, instantly on edge. Her wards ensured that no one she wasn't comfortable with would be allowed to enter, but she could never be too cautious. She had even installed a muggle alarm just to make sure nothing happened. She could never be too sure.

The footsteps grew louder until Hermione paused just outside of her bedroom door. She took in a breath, telling herself it was now or never. She exhaled and threw open the door, a list of thirty different spells already at the tip of her tongue. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw a familiar man gazing around her meticulous room with mild interest.

"Minister, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, signaling she was aware of his presence, as though the door hadn't been enough. He turned towards her, his lips upturned in the slightest of smiles.

"I should have known your room would be like this. Every item has a purpose and serves its purpose well." Kingsley replied, his eyes twinkling in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Dumbledore.

"I prefer to keep things simple." She replied, gazing at him with curiosity. What was he doing here?

"I suppose there's no point trying to make idle conversation with you, Miss Granger, so I'll share my piece and leave." Kingsley started, making sure she was listening, "The Ministry requires all witches and wizards between the ages of seventeen and thirty to attend a ball next August. I will not disclose to you why it is required, nor will I disclose the reason for such a ball. I'm merely playing the part of messenger at the moment, so spare me your questions, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt her eyes harden the slightest bit as she looked at the elder man with distaste. He's the one who broke her routine, telling her that her presence was required. He was beginning to shake up her perfect little bubble of isolation. A ball would mean social interaction, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"What is the date of this event?" She asked, tugging on the sleeves of her olive cardigan. It was a nervous habit of hers that she needed to get rid of.

"August 13th," He replied, "and you are to be there at seven." He picked up a muggle photo with interest, marveling at the way it stayed still.

"Alright, thank you for informing me, Minister. Is that all you needed to tell me?" Hermione made her way over to him, cautiously watching the way he handled her items. He gazed at some photos with a smile in his eyes, but at every photo of her and Ron, a slight frown tugged at his lips. Hermione found this to be very odd. He had come to the engagement party, and had divulged how he always wanted the pair to get married, so why did he have such a reaction of distaste when glancing upon the photos now? Hermione stored away that information, telling herself that more details would be available later.

"Now that you mention it, I was going to write you an owl, but seeing as I'm already here, you are aware of how the Head of the Department of Mysteries retired last week, yes?" He looked at her expectantly. Hermione nodded her head, and he continued.

"We found a suitable replacement, and he should be there today. I don't need to remind you to be on your best behavior, he's someone very dear to the Ministry." Kingsley went on. Now, she was curious. Who on earth would be so valuable, that the Minister himself had to tell _her_ of all people to be on their best behavior? Yes, this new person would be her boss, seeing as she was just one step below the head himself, but that usually didn't warrant an owl of warning. She loved going to work, she really did, but now she wanted nothing more than to apparate there immediately. As if sensing this, Kingsley moved to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo.

"Remember what I've told you, Hermione." Kingsley said, before disappearing amidst the green flames. Hermione sighed, mulling over everything he just told her. So there was a ball on August 13, and it started at seven, and she had a new boss that she needed to impress. Lovely. She was used to being isolated at her work, her comrades all aware that she worked best alone. No one wanted to face a work-oriented Hermione Granger. This, however, would force her to work alongside her co-workers, so her progress will be slowed significantly. She frowned, before moving to collect her things.

She pulled off her comfortable morning attire and changed into an emerald green silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and small black heels. Her friends always whined about the Slytherin-like shirt, but if she were honest to herself, she quite liked the color against her skin. Ron would no doubt call her a traitor if her ever heard her say that.

She grabbed her jacket and purse before disapparating.

Hermione stood amidst the frenzy in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. One of the reasons she preferred her department was the lack of hurried movement. Every thing around her seemed so chaotic. She briskly walked forward, and by sheer dumb luck, managed to get a lift to herself. That in of itself was a miracle. She pulled tight on one of the dangling leather straps, still unable to manage the calm facade so many effortlessly have when riding magical elevators.

She arrived at her floor, the small dark hallway illuminated only by blue flamed candles. She pulled open the plain black door and entered the department. She walked past the secretary and into her office. Hermione pulled the first stack of files from the top of the list, and opened its contents. She was so immersed in it, she didn't notice her secretary, Ann, until she called her name for the fourth time.

"Yes, Ann?" She asked, eyeing the bigger blonde before her. Ann reached for her notepad and began to tell Hermione all of the things she needed to accomplish by noon. She frowned at the lengthiness, but thanked her secretary.

"Oh, and the new Head wants to meet with you." Ann added. This wasn't a surprise to Hermione.

"What time?" She asked, settling down in her chair.

"Now." Ann said. Hermione looked at the blonde, sighing as she glanced at the clock. She hoped this would be quick.

"Thank you, Ann." She belatedly called after making her way out of her office. There was a grande private office placed directly opposite hers. Hermione smoothed out her skirt, and flattened her hair slightly, before opening the door.

She took in the appearance of the room first, surprised to see so many changes. The office itself had transformed. It was nearly triple the size it was before, and featured two separate seating areas. Everything was furnished like it was straight out of a French Chateau, with small modern accents here and there. Hermione stood amidst the opulence and couldn't help gawking. Her eyes fell upon the imposing, richly stained mahogany desk that was situated at the very back of the room. As she took in the silken white-blond locks, masculine yet aristocratic face that held a cold indifference, and filled out frame of the man sitting behind the desk, she reached for her wand, only to find she left it in her office. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she furiously stomped over to the desk, watching as he locked the door and silenced the room before she addressed him.

"_You_? Kingsley chose _you_?" She screeched, pointing a finger accusingly in his direction.

To say she was furious to see the man before her would be a severe understatement.

_This _was the man who was so 'dear' to the Ministry? She had thought it would be someone of _actual _importance. Not this bastard reclining all too comfortably in the leather chair across from her.

"Yes, Granger, he did. And I'd watch that attitude of yours, if I were you. I could have you fired if you so much as look at me the wrong way." He threatened, his mercurial silver eyes burning with hatred. The tension in the room rose to an unbearable level. Animosity sparked in every cell in her body, her mind screaming at her to hex him into oblivion.

Five seconds in his presence, and she was reminded that people actually did have the ability to hate.

"And what would you tell the Minister? 'I'm sorry I had to let go our best worker, but I didn't like her, so I hired a person with lesser capabilities to take her place.'" Hermione glared at him. She knew that being the brightest witch of their age allowed the department to move quickly and seamlessly. Just because the git was now her boss didn't mean they'd be willing to let her go so easily.

"No, I wouldn't be saying anything at all, because I'll make you resign and you'll never even think about returning to the Ministry again." He replied, his voice cold. _Well with that attitude, anyone would want to resign. _She thought bitterly.

"If you think that our little spats are going to make me give up what I love, you really are mental." She snapped. She couldn't even bring herself to sit down, she was too livid. He stood up as well, walking slowly around the desk, eyeing her much like a predator before going in for the kill. He stopped inches away from her, close enough for Hermione to have to tilt her head up in order to maintain eye contact. She mentally noticed just how much taller he'd gotten since their Hogwarts days, and he had gained the muscle he severely lacked previously. She wouldn't let him intimidate her though, so she tilted her head up at him and gave her best defiant glare.

"You, Granger, are going to resign, because I'll make you. I'll force you to sign your papers, and ward the building so if you return to the Ministry in the hopes of getting a job, you will die. I will watch your death and celebrate, because the most prudish witch of the age is finally dead." He glared down at her, his malice radiating off of him in waves. Hermione could see his insidious aura swirling around his body with shadowy black tendrils, and could feel it making the room much, much colder. Hermione fought off a violent chill, and looked into his cold eyes with the slightest sliver of fear.

It wasn't possible for his aura to be visible, much less affect their surroundings. Even Merlin didn't have that ability. She stepped back, her eyes widening fractionally.

Looking at him, she realized that he wasn't the same person from school. That person had been a cowardly boy willing to bend to Voldemort's rule as long as it meant saving himself. The person before her, this man, was completely unrecognizable. His presence was powerful and commanding, and his eyes were cold and haunting. While he looked the same, save for more masculine features that came with age, she didn't know anything about him. It was unsettling and unnerving, and left Hermione subtly shaking with trepidation.

"There's no way you can _make_ me sign those papers." She said at last. His answering smile was dangerous and all predator. It was unnatural seeing him smile. His teeth were perfect and shone given how bright they were, but combined with the emptiness in his eyes and malicious aura, he looked _very_ dangerous.

"There are so many ways I could make you. I could blackmail you, or I could use Imperio, just to name a few ideas." The Unforgivable rolled off his tongue so casually, she almost didn't think he was serious.

"If you use an Unforgivable you'll be sent to spend the rest of your miserable life with your precious father." Hermione threatened, anger coursing through her, "But then again, maybe that's where you belong."

In an instant she was slammed against the wall, her back colliding painfully with the solid surface. Her head bounced hard, and her vision was covered with stars. His hand was wrapped around her throat, his body pressed against her own. She could feel every inch of him, and struggled to breathe past his grip. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide with fear. Hot tears pricked her eyes as the edges of her vision were beginning to go black. His fury was tangible, and her body was shivering from the cold. It was like being next to a dementor, all warmth was gone. Little flakes of snow delicately fell on them, melting when coming into contact with him. While everything around them slowly froze, his anger burned, his rage white-hot.

For the first time in nearly three years, Hermione felt genuine fear.

"If you dare to ever say that again, Mudblood, I will kill everyone and everything you care about," He began, his voice deadpan, "After that, I'll torture you until you are begging me for death, which I won't grant you. I will make you live out the rest of your pathetic waste of an existence ridden with guilt because you could have saved your precious, disgusting friends, but let your own selfish desires kill them."

With the murderous glint in his eye, Hermione understood that his words weren't an empty threat, but held the same promise as an Unbreakable Vow. His voice was cold, and she could feel the vibrations when he spoke. Hermione was shivering violently, but it could have been from the cold or fear, or both.

"Let me go." She demanded through clenched teeth. The insufferable git just smirked, pressing his hand harder into her throat. She choked, struggling to get enough air through his violent grasp. She felt the room closing in on her, the black edges of her vision threatening to take over. Everything spun, leaving her dizzy. The only thing that didn't move was him, he stayed perfectly still. _He looks like a fallen angel._ Hermione thought. He looked ready to kill her, like he was enjoying watching her struggle. She kicked and thrashed, trying to free herself, but her movements were sluggish, her body unwilling to move due to her lack of oxygen. Hermione glared at him.

"Malfoy, let me go." Her voice came out as a wheeze, and he pressed his body into hers, while allowing the room's temperature to continue to drop.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you right now." He stated. It was then that she felt the tip of his wand pressing hard onto the skin below her collarbone. She felt her body sag, and the only thing holding her up was his own much larger form. His aura slowly made its way over to her, the tendrils of ink causing her heart to race. She fought consciousness with all she had, her panicked mind warning her that something bad would happen if she were to touch it.

"You wouldn't dare." She tried taking in gulps of air, but it was no use. His breath hit her cheek, and spearmint mingled with the air as he spoke.

"Don't tempt me." He spat.

His aura was just a centimeter away. Hermione braced herself for whatever was to come. She silently prayed to Gods she didn't believe in, that if she were to die, that it would be quick and painless.

A chime echoed all around them. Malfoy let go of her at once, moving behind his desk in seconds. Hermione fell to the floor, unable to control the violent coughing fit that had taken ahold of her body. She took in greedy gulps of air, staying still to fight her twisted vision. She could feel her body lift off of the ground and move before she was unceremoniously dumped in one of the chairs by his large desk. Hermione didn't want to dwell on what might have happened if his aura touched her.

"I know this may be hard for you, but at least try to look presentable." Malfoy threatened. Hermione opened her eyes once she was sure she wasn't going to pass out, only to glare at the blond across from her. Her body felt like she was seconds away from hypothermia, and her throat burned. She felt weak and achey. Why did she have to come to work today?

She felt the warm fuzz of a glamour charm wash over her neck, and glared furiously at her former classmate. She felt flushed and wanted nothing more than to Avada the ferret. If this is what hatred felt like, she now understood why Harry crucio'd Bellatrix.

"Come in." He called, his voice echoing in the silence. He unlocked the door as he spoke. The tension was still there, the animosity still coursing through her veins. It bothered her to no end that she didn't even think to bring her wand. She was never that foolish.

The door swung open to reveal the Minister who walked up to the two, a curious glint in his eye.

"I came to see how you were settling in, Mr. Malfoy." Kingsley stated, his eyes trained on the blond.

"I'm settling in quite well, thank you, Minister. Miss Granger was just filling me in on the workings of the department. She's very good at what she does." Malfoy lied. His voice was lighter, less threatening, but it was still laced with utter indifference. At the compliment, Hermione bristled, knowing he was just kissing up to the Minister. Kingsley even raised an eyebrow at this, and glanced at her. She gave him a smile to indicate his story was true.

"I'm glad you two are overlooking your past differences in order to create a strong department. I was going to look for you, anyway, Miss Granger, and now that Mr. Malfoy is present I can just discuss an idea with the both of you." the Minister began. He took the vacant seat next to Hermione, and both gave him their attention.

"Given the circumstances, the Ministry would like the two of you to be the first pair to show that previous fallouts can be overlooked in order to work towards a brighter future. It seems that after the war, students from Gryffindor and Slytherin have managed to bring their rivalry into the workplace. Not only does this prevent projects from being finished adequately, but it also endangers many witches and wizards. I'm sure you are both aware of the tragedy this past May." He stated, gauging the two reactions. The two nodded their heads, and Hermione shivered in recollection, sadness weighing over her.

Two former students were arguing over teaching styles, but the spat quickly got out of hand. It is unclear who started the friendfyre, but the entire preschool the two taught at turned into ashes, killing twenty magical children and the ten staff members, themselves included.

"I don't understand. What are you asking the two of us to do?" Hermione asked.

"I'm offering you a promotion, Miss Granger. I want you to be Mr. Malfoy's assistant. You'll be given much more say in this department, and you'll be able to propose new endeavors. Mr. Malfoy just needs to agree with this idea, and it will all be set in place. I will be giving each of you a bonus, of course." Shacklebolt stated. Hermione gawked at him in disbelief. He wanted the two of them to work _together? _If Hermione ever needed proof that the Minister was losing his mind, this was all the evidence she needed. He was downright mad if he thought that this would work. She highly doubted that Malfoy would even agree to this in the first place. He had nothing to gain, besides the bonus, but it's not like he needed the money anyway. It was common knowledge just how wealthy the pureblood was.

"I see no problems with the idea. The event was incredibly tragic, and we wouldn't want a repeat." Malfoy said, bringing her out of her reverie. She stared at Malfoy in disbelief. What was he playing at?

"Good. I'll set up an adjoining office. I'll also have the bonuses deposited into your Gringotts accounts." Kingsley smiled, surprised at how well his day was going. He stood up, walking towards the wall Hermione had been pressed against not even ten minutes ago. He waved his wand and a door appeared. He opened said door and moved inside, quickly making a room he deemed adequate. After a few minutes of glaring at the clock above the fireplace and pretending her new boss didn't exist, Shacklebolt came back out, a wide grin on his face.

"I'll leave you two be. Don't forget to mark down the date of the upcoming ball."

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the silence that followed. Hermione's heart sunk, her stomach dropping to her feet. She had never felt so hopeless in her life. She didn't want a promotion, she didn't want a bonus, and she certainly didn't want to promote some weird kind of interhouse unity. She wasn't even at Hogwarts anymore! Groaning in frustration, she stomped out of the room towards her old office. She grabbed all of her things and levitated them over to her new office. It took her fifteen minutes, but she was able to settle everything in nicely. Kingsley had made the office much bigger than her old one, but it was still nothing compared to Malfoy's.

It was only when she sat in her chair and began to overlook her paperwork that a sudden thought occurred to her.

Draco Malfoy, King of the Ferrets, had made her feel.

Before Kingsley stepped into her room this morning, her life had been filled with the same monotonous routine that lacked any kind of emotion. She felt trapped in her relationship, and her apathy was getting the best of her. In the winter, she often sat outside in the cold and wondered what it would be like to feel something other than the same emptiness. Because that's ultimately what she was. Empty.

If her quarrel with him proved anything, it was that she could actually act upon emotions still. The thought made her pause, and her eyes flickered over to the door that led to his office. He was terrifying, and he had made her feel fear. Yet just looking at him made her so angry she wanted to use an Unforgivable in cold blood.

The thought was startling and unwelcome. Her curious glance quickly changed into a glare and she promised that she would never again let him affect her in such a way. She was somewhat content with her numbness, and she would be damned if Draco Malfoy of all people took that away from her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

August 13th, 6:45 pm

Smoothing out her gold Givenchy dress for the seventh time, Hermione gazed around at the crowd surrounding her and scowled. Two days prior, she had come to realize that as much as it pained her, she had to come to this ball. Considering she didn't even know the reason why she was here (and neither did anyone else, after she asked around), she didn't see the point of dressing up in some luxurious dress she could only wear once, just to be subjected to other women's catty remarks. She knew there would be some kind of malicious gossip she would undoubtedly fall victim to later. As she allowed her gaze to wander, she took in the teenagers, who were just about to go back to Hogwarts, as they gawked at the ballroom, their eyes wide with wonder. The oldest people in attendance were witches and wizards just below the age of thirty and there wasn't a single Ministry official in sight, and this worried her slightly.

"Hey 'Mione, are you alright?" Ron asked, coming up behind her. She nodded her head, her smile more of a grimace when he placed his arm around her waist. He didn't notice, but he never did. Hermione spotted Harry and Ginny and walked up to them. The two had endured a rather rocky relationship as of late. Ginny was pressuring Harry to get married, but he didn't want to just yet. Considering he had yet to propose, she was surprised Ginny was being so forward. This disagreement had led to them breaking up three times already this year. Hermione swore that if they broke up one more time, she would forbid the pair to ever speak to each other again. She was so sick of watching the roller coaster ride of a relationship, and saw the visible toll it took on Harry.

"Hello Harry, Ginny." She greeted as warmly as she could. She plastered a smile on her face and hugged the two. She looked to see if the others from their 'group' were there, but they were absent. Hermione looked around the room, puzzled. While many colleagues of hers fit the age range, none of her married friends were present. Hermione took a mental note of this and tuned back into the conversation when her name was spoken.

"How's your work going Hermione?" Ginny asked. Hermione frowned at the redhead.

"You know I can't speak of it, Ginevra." Hermione replied. Ever since landing the job, the Weasley daughter had been relentless in her attempts to find out what it was Unspeakables did. She herself applied, only to be rejected. At first she had ignored Hermione, but now she tried her best to be as 'warm' as possible. Hermione just couldn't believe the audacity of the girl.

"I know, but you could always give us hints. Half the time I'm sure you don't work there and just use the title as an excuse to dodge questions." Ginny answered. The group laughed lightly at the joke, but Hermione knew that the redhead was serious. She was just about to respond when the clearing of a throat caught the room's attention. Silence gradually fell over the crowd, and all looked towards the Minister who stood at a podium upon the stage. He looked grim and tired, and Hermione's heart went out to him. She knew the strain he must have been under.

"Good evening my fellow wizarding folk. I come here today with an announcement to make. You may have questions, and I have the answers. All that I ask is that you remain silenced until you hear all that I have to say." Kingsley addressed. The look he gave the crowd was intimidating, and reminded everyone of his previous occupation.

"I'm afraid that the reason you are all gathered her today is not to celebrate, as some of you have speculated. Instead, I come before you with grave news." This caught everyone's attention. Nervous looks were shared between friends, and everyone became uneasy.

"A new law has been passed, and there are no ways to avoid its contents unless you would like to go to Azkaban or into the muggle world, stripped of your Wizarding identity." Shacklebolt stated calmly. Hermione's pulse began to race. There was a law passed without their knowledge? Was that even possible? What exactly did the law dictate? Hermione abhorred her lack of knowledge towards something as important as a Wizarding Law. As though hearing her unvoiced question, Shacklebolt retrieved a scroll from his robes, and began to read.

"Due to the declining population, the Ministry of Magic hereby declares that all unmarried witches and wizards between the ages of seventeen and thirty will be paired off and married for the purpose of creating magical offspring. Witches and wizards will be paired based upon a series of qualifications, including appearance, I.Q., fertility, and strengths. The Ministry does not recognize engagement as a legitimate exemption."

Suffocating silence fell upon the room as everyone gazed at their Minister in shock. Hermione's heart soared with glee. She had to restrain herself from grinning from the news. She was no longer engaged! She felt weightless as pure euphoria flooded her system. She felt freed, no longer caged within the bars of Ron's betrothal. She didn't concern herself with who she was now betrothed to, as long as he was perfectly matched for her by the Ministry's standards, she didn't mind. She felt slightly ashamed at just how wonderful she felt, and she tried to look unhappy, for Ron's sake.

"If you are currently engaged, you are required to sever all contact with your significant other for the next sixty days. If you happen to be living together, one person is required to move out. This person cannot disclose their new address to their ex-fiancee."

Silence greeted the Minister's declaration for a good five seconds before all hell broke loose. Screams of anger ricocheted around the opulent hall. Witches and wizards were shouting their protests. To give him credit, the Minister didn't even flinch when such harsh words were thrown at him. He merely raised a hand and silence fell once more. Hermione could feel the unbearable tension in this silence, it's weight nearly oppressive. Ron's hand was fiercely holding her own, and his face was rapidly becoming more and more red.

"The match's have been made, and all women are required to enter the door on the left, and the men are to enter the door on the right. One by one your match's will be disclosed, and you will be recognized by the Ministry as betrothed. Again, women to the left, men to the right."

All of the witches and wizards were slowly forced through their respective doors. Hermione fiddled with the ring adorning her finger before giving it back to the redhead beside her. She looked at Ron's murderous expression, and her heart sunk as he took the ring before punching one of the aurors. She watched in horror as he was stunned, his body dragged into the right-hand room. Tears pricked her eyes, but not from sadness. Instead she felt guilty. All Ron ever wanted was her love, and while she loved him with everything she had, she doubted she could ever fall in love with him. She would do anything for him, he was her best friend, but it would never be enough.

Blinking back tears, she calmly walked towards the door on the left, mentally acknowledging that while she had finally gotten out of her engagement, she couldn't get rid of the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was a mixture of guilt, sadness that she couldn't help those who were evidently in love, and something else. Try as she might to ignore it, Hermione couldn't stop the feeling that something ugly was about to happen. She squashed the feeling. _It was a bit late to be feeling that now._

The last witch was shoved into the large room, and the door was magically sealed. Soft cries echoed all around her as women lamented their lost loves.

"Abbrielle Harrington?" A young witch called.

"Yes?" Abbrielle responded. The woman was small and meek looking. She had thick rimmed glasses, and looked terrified of everything going on around her. She looked to be sixteen, but looks could be deceiving.

"You can follow me." The younger witch commanded, before pivoting on her heel and walking down a long hallway Hermione hadn't noticed before.

As soon as the girl was out of sight, hushed whispers broke out within the room. Women were pulling out random objects and transfiguring them into chairs and such. Two pureblood women had gone so far as to transfigure a muggle hundred dollar bill into a chaise lounge chair. Hermione scoffed before leaning against one of the marble pillars that adorned the room.

"Who do you think you'll be paired with?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide with nervousness. Hermione noticed the girl's lack of sadness and made a mental note to tell Harry later.

"I don't know. Based on the criteria, I'll probably be matched with a man I haven't met yet." Hermione responded. If appearance really was a factor in their matchmaking, she was bracing herself for an unattractive man who was good and intelligent and would cater to Hermione's needs. If she had to admit it to herself, the idea sounded incredibly boring.

"What makes you say that?" Ginny wondered, her eyes narrowing slightly. She looked at Hermione with disgust shining in her eyes. Hermione chose to respond carefully, fully aware of the infamous Weasley temper.

"If we're being matched according to appearance as well as intelligence, I'll probably be with someone less attractive than Ron, who has an established and boring career at the Ministry." Her answer seemed to satisfy Ginny, who smirked victoriously at her.

"I'll probably end up with a pureblood. I just hope I don't get a Slytherin, although I wouldn't mind snagging Zabini or Malfoy." The redhead disclosed. Hermione looked at her with a mixture of shock and disgust.

"Why the hell would you _want _to be with them of all people? What about Harry?" Hermione challenged. Damn it all to hell, she never liked Ginny, and this was just pushing Hermione over the edge. The girl had no compassion, she only wanted the material things in life and would stop at nothing to be the most famous and most rich witch in London.

"When compared to someone such as Malfoy, Harry doesn't really stand a chance. The Malfoy's go back generations and have history books written about them. Plus he's hot and loaded. What more could you ask for in a man?" Ginny stated as if it was obvious. Hermione didn't bother to disguise her disgust. She knew Ginevra was conceited, but to stay with Harry just for the fame and money, only to jump at the chance to be with someone of higher standing made Hermione want to hex the daft bint.

"Well perhaps looks and wealth aren't everything to everyone, Ginevra." Hermione responded icily. Ginny looked genuinely surprised by her words, as though the idea were unfathomable.

"Ginevra Weasley." The younger witch called. Ginny smirked at Hermione.

"I'm going to be matched with Malfoy, just look at the criteria. Try not to be too surprised when I'm right." The redhead boasted before walking triumphantly down the hall.

It was five minutes before a crying Ginny furiously stomped back into the room. She was radiating anger, and Hermione had to suppress the urge to laugh at the other girl's misery.

"The Ministry is incompetent. How dare they match me with someone as vile and disgusting as _him._" Ginny ranted.

"Who?" Hermione asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Gregory Goyle." Ginny spat. Hermione couldn't hold in the laughter much longer. The younger girl glared daggers at her laughing companion.

"You think this is funny, do you? Well at least he's a rich pureblood. You're probably going to be matched with a mudblood as disgusting and pathetic as you." Ginny glared one last time at Hermione before leaving. The room had fallen silent after watching the exchange with interest. Whispers broke out, except this time revolving around her and not the law they should actually be interested in. Hermione stayed frozen in shock, hot tears pricking her eyes.

"You do realize she only said that because she's jealous, right?" Said a smooth voice behind her. Hermione turned around, and was surprised to see Pansy Parkinson of all people standing behind her. She looked at the tall, willowy witch with curiosity.

"I know, but it doesn't make the words hurt any less. She's probably right anyway." Hermione replied. Pansy scoffed before pulling out an electronic cigarette. It was considered fashionable for pureblood women to smoke, so the gesture didn't surprise Hermione.

"She probably is, but he won't be pathetic. He'll be established, like you." The Slytherin replied. Hermione eyed the witch wondering where this was coming from. She did, however, notice that she agreed with Ginny's statement. She thought Hermione was 'disgusting' too.

"Who do you think you're going to be matched with?" Hermione asked.

"Most likely Blaise Zabini. We have been engaged to be married since we were sixteen anyway. Our parents based the marriage off of criteria very similar to the Ministry's." The witch cooly responded. She took another drag of the cigarette, her coal black eyes assessing the crowd around them. She smoothed her jet black bob with her other hand, and Hermione noticed the enormous ring placed on her finger. Pansy smirked.

"Big, isn't it? Only the best for me." Pansy laughed. Hermione decided that she preferred this woman to the wretched pug she had been in school. While her nose still looked vaguely pug-like, her fine porcelain skin and arresting eyes made up for her one aesthetic flaw. She was also much taller than Hermione, and her emerald silk dress clung to her perfect curves, while maintaining an air of class. Hermione found herself irrationally jealous of the woman before her.

"Hermione Granger."

Hermione's heart began to pound. Pansy gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before shoving her lightly in the direction of the younger witch. She followed her down the long hallway. Her breath coming in short, sporadic bursts.

This was it. In ten minutes her fate will be laid out for her, and she'll be able to properly kiss all of her dreams and aspirations away. She sighed before tilting up her jaw and setting her shoulders. Feeling much like she was on her way to receive a dementor's kiss, she felt dread etch itself into every fibre of her being.

The young witch opened the door at the very end of the hall, and Hermione spied her wedding ring with jealousy. It was silly how just a simple piece of jewelry could exempt you from a law.

Hermione took a deep breath before stepping into the room.

She couldn't see the man fully, but the shock of unmistakeable white-blond hair was shortening her list of potential men significantly.

"You've got to be kidding me." Hermione spat. Her stomach plummeted as she watched him tense before turning around to look at her, his face the same mask of cold indifference. His lips pulled into a trademark smirk, while his mercurial eyes burned with hatred.

"Well, this just got interesting."


End file.
